


Why Tony quits drinking and starts detoxing--or when Pepper Potts wasn't as strong as she wanted to be

by n00blici0us



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n00blici0us/pseuds/n00blici0us
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day Tony decides to stop drinking--and here's why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Tony quits drinking and starts detoxing--or when Pepper Potts wasn't as strong as she wanted to be

As strange as it seems, it is sunny the day that Pepper Potts crashes her car. She didn’t mean to, of course, but the bright glare from the reflection of the broken guard rail unexpectedly blinded her. She instinctively raises a hand to her eyes, loses sight of the road and feels the wheel slipping out of her control on the hairpin curve in the mountains.

 _Shit_ , she thinks, hands grappling at the wheel, hearing the squeal of tires and crunch of gravel beneath her before a sudden drop and sight of the tumble of ocean and sky mixing together in a blue haze.

Pepper wakes up to unbelievable pain radiating throughout her entire body, confused of her surroundings. She licks her lips dryly and attempts to yell, her voice stopping in her parched throat. The sun starts to set and true to Malibu weather, it steals away the warmth as it leaves. She isn’t sure where she is; she was on her way to the mansion taking the scenic route and she can never remember which turn is which, identifying them by feel of the drive instead.

 _No use lying here, Potts,_ she mutters in her mind. _Call for help._ With great effort she turns her head to the right and reaches for her purse still lying—thank goodness—on the seat next to her, tangled up in the seatbelt. Her fingers stretch out slowly—when did it get to hard to move just an index finger?—inching open her purse. _Please, please,_ she thinks fervently, _don’t let my phone have fallen out._ Pepper has not been religious since her childhood, but Tony’s disappearance brought out prayer and pleas in her that she had not thought possible. She thinks she is reverting to the same kind of mindset now.

The sun sets by the time she finally scrabbles her fingers through her purse and picks out the phone by feel. She’s exhausted with the effort, but firmly tells herself to suck it up and get on with it. Pepper Potts has never shied away from difficulty or hardship; she’s been working with Tony Stark too long to do that. With as much force as she can muster, she sets about pushing buttons. Her first try gets her speakerphone. She barely manages a hoarse laugh of relief. The phone works. She can do this. The dial tone of her phone has never felt so reassuring. She can’t see what she’s pushing so she just pushes another button, a different one, holding it down for as long as she can.

The quick beeps of the phone let her know that she’s found a speed-dial. The phone rings and rings and Pepper can feel tears starting to leak from her eyes at the thought that maybe she wouldn’t get out of this, maybe she couldn’t just organize it all together and force her way out when—

“Hello, you have reached the phone of Anthony Stark, Stark Industries. If you are calling regarding an interview please press…”

Pepper barely notes the grim irony of calling Tony and getting her own voice-recorded voicemail back. _Fuck,_ she thinks viciously. _Of all the times for him not to pick up the phone. What the fuck could he be doing?_

She keeps her finger on the keys though and tries again, letting the phone ring dully over and over, letting the voicemail run through its allotted time before pushing the button again. She’s not sure what the voicemail will record. Maybe her harsh gasps for breath? The loudest shout she can manage?

“Tony,” she hoarsely whispers, “Get your ass out here. Turn on that goddamn GPS that I know you’ve installed into my phone and my car even though I told you not to. Fuck. I don’t know where I am.”

Soon it becomes incoherent mumblings as the stars come out. She can feel herself shivering in the crisp September air. When she musters up the strength, she pushes the button on her phone again, but she only hears the dull ring before her own voice greets her.

In the end it is Jarvis that calls Happy who calls Rhodey and Rhodey who calls the police and organizes a search effort that finally finds her, barely conscious, shivering from the cold underneath her car, though she has no idea how Jarvis knew to call Happy. Sometimes she thinks that AI might be evolving, a scary thought in itself even though she trusts—owes—Jarvis her life.

And when she wakes up again it is to clean, crisp sheets and Tony standing in the doorway, staring at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. He walks over and cups her face so gently as if she might break at any second, a gentleness she has never seen from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from her face, touches her arm with a feather-light touch and doesn’t say anything, just stares. It frightens her a little not to know what he’s thinking right then, for him to be so unreadable by her, his dark hair falling in his eyes. She wants to reach up and brush it back for him, but it’s so hard to move so she merely stays, endures, feels and waits.

And when she gets home—to the mansion—and discovers all of the liquor cabinets bare, she can hardly feel surprised anymore. At least she knows why he didn’t answer the phone.


End file.
